


Saul

by thephilosophersapprentice



Series: as if these names could take our sins [8]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Blood, Gen, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, tense situations, tension to the max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice
Summary: The king who has not the good of his people at heart is no king at all.After Edward, Ling and Envy escape from Gluttony, Edward has to face the consequences of rashly letting his heritage slip to the homunculi.





	Saul

Envy dropped them off outside the Fuhrer’s office with a scoff. Edward swallowed. He didn’t regret telling Ling about Mom; if anything, he regretted that he had also given up the game to Envy. Healed or not, his ribs still ached from the inevitable fight. It was all Envy’s fault, naturally. He couldn’t shut up.

Still, Edward was sure by now that Bradley knew all about him—if Envy knew, then he’d surely have shared with all the other homunculi, complete with requisite gloating.

Then he steeled himself and pushed the door open.

“Ah, Fullmetal,” the Fuhrer said, sounding as chipper and fatherly as ever. “Have a seat.”

Edward moved automatically and sat down next to Mustang. The Fuhrer turned back to Mustang, perhaps hoping to rile him up—instead, Edward was just glad that he couldn’t feel the ouroboros mark on Bradley’s hidden eye boring through him.

“A bold move on your part, Colonel,” Bradley— _Wrath_ —said. “Overbold, maybe, but there’s never a dull moment with you around.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mustang said, as if he’d just been complimented. Did the man’s nerve know no bounds?

“What about you, Major Elric?” Bradley turned the horrible scrutiny on Edward. He did his best to sit up straight, keep himself from trembling—like the queen going forth to plead for her people, he hoped.

“What was that, back at the hospital?” Edward demanded. If Mustang could be bold even in danger like this, he was going to do the same.

“I never lied to you, Edward,” Wrath said. “I told you to trust no one, and not to dig any deeper. You could have at least followed the first half of those orders. Not that it would have made a difference.”

“And what about everyone else? Everyone you don’t need to hold on to as a sacrifice,” Edward said. His heart pounded against his ribs until they ached again, but he wasn’t going to break for them.

“Keep your head down and no harm will come to you. Is that clear, Fullmetal Alchemist?”

Slowly, Edward withdrew the silver watch from his pocket—still spotted and messy from blood—and flicked it across the table. “I’m not going to be complicit in the destruction of an entire nation.” _I won’t be like_ you.

Edward felt the edge of the saber before he saw it. All he could do was sit, frozen, head at an uncomfortable angle, watching the thin line of blood slithering down the sharp edge. _It’s the same color as an Amestrian’s_ , he thought irrationally. _Do you see, Mustang? We’re not different. We bleed the same._

“Funny how poorly the records are kept in small country towns,” Wrath said deliberately. Edward’s eyes followed the line of the blade up to Bradley’s face. He hadn’t expected to see mercy there; it was still a shock when he saw none. Wrath was not human. Edward needed to stop thinking of him as such. “Easy for a single Ishvalan woman to escape the purge—even easy for her to get married and have children who won’t even be noticed in the long run.”

“She wasn’t married,” Edward said, his tongue numb. It was getting harder to breathe around the blank panic. Blood trickled down his collarbone, staining the front of the shirt. Once white. Now dirty, dirty, dirty.

“All the same,” Wrath continued. “Who would miss a single child, more or less? An orphan. An Ishvalan, even.”

He could _die_ here. Die alone, with his promises all broken.

“Sir,” Mustang said, his voice low. “I recruited Major Elric. He was assigned under my command. I take full responsibility for all his actions and his race.”

“I find you’re rather too quick to excuse your subordinates, Colonel,” Wrath said. He withdrew his sword, wiped it on a napkin in a single swipe, and sheathed it. Edward didn’t dare move a muscle. More blood dripped down onto his collar. “Which is why they’ve been reassigned. Lieutenant Hawkeye will stay here in Central as my personal assistant.”

Wrath examined the watch. “How appropriate. Crusted in blood, as befits a dog of the military. You’re too proud for this, Elric.” He rested his palms on the edge of the table, leaning forward. “You thought you had the opportunity to kill me when we first met. Of course you wouldn’t have had a snowflake’s chance in hell, but you didn’t really intend to kill me. I could see it in your eyes. You could’ve had revenge for your mother’s people.” Edward could feel the blood trickling down, slow and determined, along the seam of his automail. “It doesn’t matter at all to me,” Wrath continued, “that you’re an Ishvalan whelp. Did you have a particular reason not to kill me, Fullmetal Alchemist, or was it just more damn human foolishness?”

Edward stared at the tabletop, not daring to touch the cut. “I just wanted to help my brother. Who I _know_ you won’t harm, because he’s seen the Truth as well.” He slowly raised his head. “You should just kill me now.” Edward forced himself to breathe. Saving the lives of every person in the country was more important than pride, or promises. “I’m going to stop you. I’ll find a way.”

“What was the name of that lovely young lady?” Wrath mused. “Ah yes. Winry Rockbell.”

That was all he had to say. The choke collar was back on. He might be hissing and snarling with rage, but they could drag him wherever they wanted. Just a half-Amestrian mongrel on a silver chain.

“She’s your automail mechanic. If I remember correctly, you all grew up together in Resembool. You’re practically family.”

Wrath tossed the watch back to him. Silently, Edward slid it back into his pocket.

“It makes no difference to me your race or your reasons,” Wrath said. “All you humans are the same to me. All that matters is you’ve opened the Gate.” He turned to Mustang. “Are you going to turn in your resignation, Colonel?”

“No. The military has certain privileges—ones I’d rather hold on to.” Mustang glanced at his own perfectly polished watch. “I think I’ll hang on to this.”

“Very good,” Bradley said, a false veneer of amicability in his tone.

“Sir!” Alphonse shouted, almost too loud. Bradley turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “The only reason my brother joined the military was to find a way to restore our bodies. With your permission, we’d like to continue that search.” _Nice thinking, Al. Give us some measure of freedom while pretending we’re just as selfish as them._

“Very well,” Bradley said. “You may continue the search to restore your bodies, as long as your ordinary duties are fulfilled.” Called to heel, again. “Dismissed.”

Edward and Mustang stood, saluted, and left the office. Mustang caught Edward’s arm and pulled him toward an unused meeting room. He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the cut on Edward’s throat. “It’s shallow. It probably won’t even scar. Still, I don’t know how you’re still standing right now.”

Edward felt a scream building in his throat. It burst out despite his best efforts. Mustang even jumped. Edward gasped, feeling as if his soul had finally returned to his body. “Apologies,” he choked out, with an attempt at a smile. “That wasn’t very professional of me.”

“If you’d ever actually been on a battlefield, Fullmetal, you’d know that was a bunch of moonshine,” Mustang said, carefully wrapping his handkerchief around Edward’s throat. “Grown men scream and cry and no one has any room to judge; we all know at least one time we were worse. At least you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Fuhrer.” Mustang sighed, tying off the makeshift bandage. It was tight enough not to shift, but not tight enough to restrict his breathing. “I’m sorry, Fullmetal. It’s my fault you’re here at all.”

Edward swallowed. The bandage felt rough despite how worn the fabric was. “They’re the ones who are making the calls.”

“You’ve done so much for us, Colonel,” Alphonse said, his childish voice coming out raw. “You couldn’t have seen this coming.”

Mustang sighed, looking much older than he was. “Right now, this is feeling like a lot of work for no payout.”

Edward shook his head. “Most ‘failed’ transmutations only failed because the alchemist lost their nerve,” he said resolutely.

Mustang nodded.

“Where were you?” Al asked.

Edward shook his head mutely. Alphonse touched his shoulder, gave it a gingerly squeeze.

“Please don’t make me talk about it,” Edward said quietly. “Maybe someday. But… not today.”

Mustang nodded slowly. If Al had had a face, Edward knew it would’ve been blank with concern.

* * *

 

As Edward and Alphonse left Central Command, Ric ran up to them and handed Edward a folded sheet of paper. It took Edward a minute to recognize Ric with the dark glasses and cap pulled over his hair; by that time, Ric had already dashed back into the crowd.

“Hey, wait—” Edward stared after Ric, but the younger boy would be safer without the attention a chase would draw and Edward could always find him later if he needed to. Instead, Edward led Al toward a quieter area secluded in a small park and opened the note.

The handwriting was large and bold, but with a slight awkwardness to the characters that could indicate that the writer was used to another alphabet.

_Asim:_

_You most likely do not wish to speak to me after our last meeting. The boy will tell me that you and Latif are alive and well and I will be content. Knowing what you now know, we must go our separate ways, regardless of either of our own feelings on the matter. Yet I do regret the deaths of the Doctors Rockbell. They came to give life, yet met only death, death at my hand. I will say nothing in defense of myself. You and your childhood friend have the right to hate, just as I will not be justified by asking your forgiveness. Ishvala knows all our wrongdoing, and Ishvala is just._

_The time is coming when all loyalties must be questioned. You walk a narrow road; you may die before you find its conclusion. Ask yourself again where your loyalties lie, what it truly is you desire, and reconcile yourself to the knowledge that you may never attain it._

_You will hear no more of me in Central City. May you and your brother find what you seek._

There was no signature. Edward passed the paper to Alphonse, staring emotionlessly at the busy road. There was silence as Alphonse read the note.

“Ed—”

Edward took the note back and dropped it into the gutter, watching as the ink bled away in fractal swirls until it could no longer be made out.

“Every time we think we’re gaining ground, it turns out we lost more than we gained,” Edward murmured.

“It’s a pity Scar is gone,” Alphonse said. “He could have told us why his deconstruction worked when our alchemy didn’t. That Father person seemed surprised by it too.”

“I don’t want to see him ever again,” Edward growled. “What about the Xingese girl? Hers wasn’t turned off either.”

“I forgot!” Alphonse exclaimed. “She’s still inside my armor! She was hurt pretty bad—I’d better get her to Doctor Knox’s right away.”

“If she’s up for it, she could explain the differences between alchemy and alcahestry to you.” Edward sucked in a deep breath. “I have to go return the Lieutenant’s gun, then I’m going to the library to see if they have anything on Xingese alcahestry.”

“I’ll meet you at the library,” Alphonse said, turning in the opposite direction.

* * *

 

Edward hesitated slightly before knocking on Lieutenant Hawkeye’s door. It had been a long day—he hadn’t slept all night, and he had been fighting nonstop even before that. Maybe saying he would meet Al at the library hadn’t been such a good idea.

Finally, Edward knocked, waiting for an answer. The sound of running water from inside the apartment suddenly cut off and Hawkeye called “I’ll be with you in a few minutes!” Edward grimaced to himself. Of course he had caught her at an awkward time. Just another black mark on his bumbling track record.

He was jerked back to awareness when Hawkeye opened the door. A black-and-white blur shot out and tackled him, barking excitedly.

“Hayate!” Hawkeye said. “Down, boy! You know Ed!”

Hayate barked again, sounding proud of himself, but allowed himself to be coaxed off of Ed.

“Edward, you look like hell. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Edward gave her a lopsided grin. “Does being unconscious count?”

“No,” Hawkeye said. “Come in.”

“Uh… I came to return your gun…”

“Have a seat, I’ll get you some tea.”

Edward sat at the kitchen table. Hayate curled himself against Ed’s leg, as if to assure him that the dog held no ill feelings. Hawkeye came back a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. Edward sipped gratefully at the tea—it eased away aches he’d been tuning out long enough that he’d forgotten about them. Hawkeye began to disassemble the gun and clean it.

“Is this _blood_?” she asked, horrified.

Edward grimaced. “It’s a long story.”

Hawkeye set down the barrel and the stock. “What happened to you last night after we left?” Her voice was even. That didn’t make it any less of an order.

It took two more cups of tea to fully explain the previous night’s happenings to the lieutenant, who listened in silence.

Edward finished and stared into the few sad fragments of tea leaf sunk to the bottom of his mug. Hawkeye said, “I grew up around alchemists. I’ve lived around them my entire life, and I still don’t know anything about half of what you just described to me.”

“It’s pretty esoteric stuff,” Ed mumbled, “seeing that it’s absolutely justified as a taboo.”

Hawkeye sighed. “This is even more complicated than we thought. We can’t trust anyone in High Command, as the Colonel discovered, and I’m supposed to report tomorrow as the Fuhrer’s assistant.”

Edward surged from his chair. “ _What?!_ You can’t—Bradley is dangerous—”

“Edward. None of what we’ve done for the past few _decades_ is safe,” Hawkeye pointed out. “I’m a hostage to ensure the Colonel doesn’t make trouble for the homunculi. If they actually harm me, they lose their bargaining chip.”

Ed stared at the tabletop. Hawkeye watched him, concerned. “Edward?”

“Tell me about Ishval,” he requested, his voice neither pleading nor challenging.”

“Are you sure?” Hawkeye asked. Stalling, perhaps. By her expression, she knew it was a useless question to ask him, of all people.

Edward nodded stoically. “If I don’t know the truth, I can’t face it.”

Hawkeye nodded and began.

* * *

 

As she told Edward the whole ugly story—leaving nothing out and offering no excuses for herself or Roy, as neither of them would have wished one—Riza watched his face. For the most part, Edward—Asim—showed no expression. She was used to emotions being written all over his face; it was strange to see him staring at nothing, expressionless. But maybe that really just showed how much of a toll her story was taking on the young alchemist. He was exhausted already, but there was no _good_ time for a story like this—stark, harsh and heavy with the guilt it inspired. No judgment or anger in the boy’s dull eyes. Maybe she took some unworthy encouragement from Edward’s lack of judgement—she liked him personally as well as professionally and would sorely miss his good opinion if she lost it.

Edward listened in silence until Riza concluded her story. The first emotion he showed was alarm, when she finished describing Roy’s vision for Amestris’ future. “But… you and Mustang…”

“There would be no room for us in the Amestris we want to create,” Riza said softly. “In a country where the very thought of genocide was abhorrent, we would not be seen as heroes.”

Edward looked torn. Part of her—the part that was always looking back, regretting what she would not—was gratified. “You and Alphonse want to get your bodies back, don’t you? Focus on that, Edward. You don’t need to worry for us. We chose this path long ago.”

Edward stared into his half-empty mug, long since grown cold. “Al and I—we can’t live our lives as if we are the only ones who matter. We’re Ishvalan, but Amestris is where we grew up. It’s our _home_. We might be kids. Even if it should be the adults’ job to save the country. We want to do _something_.”

There was a pause. “What do you and Al plan to do when this is all over?” Riza asked.

Edward closed his eyes momentarily. “We want to go home… back to Resembool. Maybe visit our master again. I guess we were never going to be normal kids, but…”

Riza nodded slowly. Edward yawned again, caught himself at it, and clamped his jaw shut.

“Is Alphonse out?” Riza asked.

“He’s either at Doctor Knox’s dropping Mei off and visiting Lan Fan or he’s probably at the library by now.” Edward stretched, trying to be subtle about it and mostly failing. The joint of his right shoulder made a faint clicking sound that was still disconcerting even now, even though when Riza had first met him he had been in a wheelchair, down two limbs. She had had three years to get used to it, but she never had. She was surprised he’d been able to stay awake this long.

“Right. I’m going to call Alphonse to let him know where you are, you are going to have something to eat, and then you are going to rest for at least three hours. I’m off-duty today, so I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Edward blinked at her half-heartedly. “But—our research—”

“Alphonse can get on just fine at the library on his own. You wouldn’t be much help in this condition. Do I make myself clear?”

Edward threw her a half-hearted salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Saul--the king who let his own lust for power come before the good of his people.


End file.
